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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519277">the right direction</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisylincs/pseuds/daisylincs'>daisylincs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Agents of Birthdays [22]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Agents of Birthdays, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Gift Fic, Happy Birthday Sunshineandsciencebabies!!, Important Conversations, Set During The "We Had Time", birthday fic, talking through their issues, the steps you take don't have to be big...</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:40:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519277</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisylincs/pseuds/daisylincs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On the first night of their “we had time,” Fitz and Jemma put their heads together and really talk through everything that they’ve been through - because if they’re going to succeed in this final mission of theirs, they’re going to have to do things <i>right.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Agents of Birthdays [22]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the right direction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshineandsciencebabies/gifts">Sunshineandsciencebabies</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dear @sunshineandsciencebabies,</p>
<p>Happy birthday!!!! Awwww, wishing you all the best today 🥰 Now, I know we might not officially know each other too well, but that's what I see as the wonder of the Tumblr mutual bond - something as simple as me seeing your username one day and thinking it's really cool can be enough to get me to click on that Follow button, and just like that, we're on each other's dashes. It might not be anything <i>officially</i> official, but I still get this little smile whenever I see your name crop up in my Activity page. And honestly? I think that's really cool of us, and all Tumblr users, really. 😍 (And, come on, let's face it, your username is the coolest thing EVER, I really do just love it so much!!) </p>
<p>So, O one with the amazing username, I hope you had an absolutely incredible birthday, and I really hope you like this little birthday-present-slash-reminder-of-why-we-love-AoS-so much! &lt;333</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jemma ran her hands through her untidy hair, absent-mindedly tugging at the far left side of her fringe, and blew out a long, slow breath. They had been in Theta Serpentis for eight hours now, and she still couldn’t… wrap her head around it, what they were trying to do. </p>
<p>Well, no, those weren’t the right words. She <em>could </em>wrap her head around it, she could do <em>that </em>all too well. She knew exactly what they needed to do, and why, and she had even sorted out a list while the Zephyr had been powering down into its “Sustain” mode after the jump here. And, given everything that was <em>on </em>that list, she knew she should be resting, but she just…</p>
<p>
  <em>But she just. </em>
</p>
<p>She didn’t think it had sunk in yet, really. It was so <em>outrageous, </em>what they were trying to do, and yet the world - their <em>friends </em>- had never needed them to do anything more.</p>
<p>What felt so wrong about it, what made <em>her </em>feel so wrong, was that her friends needed her <em>right now, </em>and she was up here in space, millions of light-years away on a specially-modified SHIELD plane.</p>
<p>She knew what they were doing <em>would </em>help them, of course she knew that - the logic worked out completely. They would get everything ready to save the world here, and then when it was all finished, they would jump <em>back </em>to the moment it was needed. Simple quantum physics.</p>
<p>That didn’t make it any less unbelievable, though. They were literally talking about saving the world and time travel, for goodness’ sakes, like they were on Back to the bloody Future 5!</p>
<p>They would do it, of course. They always did.</p>
<p>Still, though… here she was, bathed in the cold white light from the stars outside the Zephyr’s bay window, giving her best shot at wearing out the space-plane’s polycarbon flooring. </p>
<p>She was a worrier - it was in her nature, Fitz had once said, complete with an affectionate roll of his eyes and a little bump of his shoulder against hers. <em>For no reason, too, </em>he had always added. </p>
<p>Her heart gave a small twist in her chest as a sudden memory of Fitz, fifteen years younger, clasping both her hands in his before her final biochemistry exam at SHIELD Academy - <em>“just breathe, Jemma, you’re going to do </em>brilliantly, <em>I know you are, and so do you” </em>- and keeping a hold of her hands until almost all of her stress and intense worry had faded away.</p>
<p>This wasn’t the same, of course, she wasn’t a seventeen-year-old regretting every decision to take two doctorates she had ever made - she was a grown woman, and she was in <em>space, </em>and she had a world to save. </p>
<p>Still. Fitz would be her rock.</p>
<p>Except… a pang shot through her as she thought of how he had been acting just slightly off ever since they had safely come out of their jump. Oh, he’d hidden it well, of course, claiming the very realistic pretence of helping Enoch prime and double-check all the Zephyr’s support systems - but she knew him better than that. He was avoiding her.</p>
<p>She didn’t think he was <em>mad, </em>exactly, but rather - distant? He was deliberately distancing himself from her, and <em>that </em>worried her.</p>
<p>Throughout the heading-for-two-decades they had known each other, she could remember two occasions - well, two types of occasions - wherein Fitz had purposefully put space between them. </p>
<p>One was when they had been young, and stupid, and she had been dating Nathan from Ops, and shamelessly flirting with him right in front of Fitz. She had been so <em>stupid, </em>and she hadn’t even noticed - hadn’t even <em>dreamed </em>- that he might be jealous.</p>
<p>To be fair, she didn’t think he had noticed, either, they were both so completely <em>convinced </em>that they were just friends. Best friends, yes, but nothing more… except that Fitz’s subconscious must have already known that something about that was a lie, because it sent him into a surge of fury over the dumbest thing - Nathan’s <em>haircut - </em>and while he had insisted there was nothing wrong between them, it was just a dumb fight, he also hadn’t shown up at her lunch table for the next week. </p>
<p>(She had broken up with Nathan in the fastest dating disaster of her <em>life, </em>and, just a few days later, she and Fitz were back to their normal routine. They hadn’t thought anything of it then, of course - <em>we were so young and </em>so <em>stupid - </em>but there had obviously been something there even then.) </p>
<p>Anyway, the second scenario in which Fitz was likely to cut her off was when he wanted to talk about something - when he felt they needed to talk about something - but he didn’t know how to approach the subject. It was his way of working it through in his mind, and sorting it out for himself until he knew what he needed to say, and how to say it. <em>Then </em>he’d come to her, and, based on her reaction, things would get either much better or much worse.</p>
<p>She gave a little yelp as she accidentally tugged sharply on her fringe, her entire being’s <em>no </em>reaction making it very clear - she could <em>not </em>stomach things being bad with Fitz, not when they had a mission <em>this </em>important ahead of them, not when they had to spend the next few <em>years </em>here working together. </p>
<p>They would have to sort it out, whatever it was, and do it as soon as possible. </p>
<p>Uncurling the twist of hair from around her fingers, she stopped herself mid-pace, turning away from her mindlessly repeated path and taking one determined step in the direction of the storage bays, and <em>Fitz… </em>only to run straight into Fitz himself coming towards her.</p>
<p>
  <em>Psychically linked, indeed. </em>
</p>
<p>Her mind flashed back through all the times people had called them that, lingering fondly on how much it had always exasperated them both - “it’s just not <em>possible </em>for two individuals’ minds to be linked in an extratelepathic fashion the way you’re suggesting, Skye!” </p>
<p>Now, though, she thought that there might have been a kernel of truth to the whole idea all along - not the science, of course, that was very much still an impossibility. But there was definitely something to be said for knowing someone for close to twenty years, and the bond it created between the two of you. </p>
<p>Like now, for example - she could see that Fitz was tense before he had even gotten halfway down the corridor. It was there in the half-unconscious way he curled his left hand - the hand which had always showed the effects of his hypoxia more - closer against his chest, and it was there in the way leaned slightly back on his heels with every step he took, a remnant of a childhood spent ready to duck and run away from his father’s heavy hand and equally heavy disapproval. </p>
<p>She always wanted to hug him very tightly against her whenever she noticed that, but she held herself back. He had come to her to talk, and she knew how hard that still was for him, so she would give him the space he needed. </p>
<p>Still, though, she couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes immediately filled with relief when he saw her standing framed against the Zephyr’s bay window - and the sheer, overwhelming <em>love </em>there made her heart skip a beat and her breath catch in her throat.</p>
<p>Whatever he wanted to talk to her about, it wouldn’t get in the way of their love.</p>
<p><em>(Could anything? </em>she wondered. </p>
<p>Certainly not with the way she felt, no matter <em>what </em>happened next.) </p>
<p>“Jemma,” Fitz began, and he had that serious, almost-sad look in his eyes that he always got when he needed to tell her something serious. The first time she could remember seeing it was when he had talked to her about his father for the first time, one cold, dark December’s night when they were working overtime in the SciOps lab… and she had seen it far more since then than she would ever have wanted to. </p>
<p>But -</p>
<p>“Yes, Fitz?” she replied, smiling at him as warmly as she could. </p>
<p>He took a breath, and his gaze was heavy where it caught and locked onto hers. “We need to talk.” </p>
<p>She fought against her breathing, threatening to catch treacherously in her throat again. They talked all the time, about everything and anything under (and beyond, lately) the sun - this could <em>not </em>be so bad. Deliberately keeping hef voice light, she asked, “What about?” </p>
<p>“Everything,” Fitz said simply.</p>
<p>She shook her head slowly. “Everything? What do you m-” </p>
<p>“I <em>mean,” </em>he interjected, holding up one hand and taking a step closer, into her space,  “we’ve never talked about everything that’s happened. And, no, before you say anything, being stuck in a cerebral fusion prison together doesn’t count.” </p>
<p>Jemma closed her mouth. That <em>hadn’t </em>been what she had been about to say, but the sentiment was exactly right - she did <em>not </em>want to drag up the ghosts of everything that had happened. </p>
<p>And by the look in his eyes, Fitz knew that.</p>
<p>He blew out a long, slow breath, holding her gaze with that grippingly emotional expression of his. “I want to do this properly,” he said, nodding his head once. “No more little music boxes, okay?” </p>
<p>He took another step forward, and Jemma hadn’t realised she was backing away until he caught her wrists gently, pulling her to a stop in front of him and pressing his forehead against hers.</p>
<p>She felt as if every muscle in her body was tensed up, every fibre of her being shouting <em>no, no, please not this, we </em>don’t <em>need to do this </em>- but the longer she stayed in Fitz’s arms, listening to the quiet in- and exhale of his steady breathing and feeling the warmth of his forehead against hers, the more her tension started to thin and melt away, like veils of cobwebs being brushed away. </p>
<p>"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Fitz said softly, leaning back slightly so she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “But we do need to talk.” </p>
<p>And though there was an infinite gentleness in his eyes as he looked down at her, she recognised the bite of steel in his voice. Holding her gaze intently, he nodded once, and his voice was firm as he said, “Because if we’re going to be living on the Zephyr together for the next few years, working together day in and day out to save our friends… we’re going to need to clear the air. <em>All </em>the air.”  </p>
<p>Jemma released a slow, shaky breath, and as she did, the echoes of Daisy’s sobs - <em>Fitz, please, don’t do this, I am </em>begging <em>you - </em>played through her mind, just as quickly followed by the stabbing, horrifying agony of the mind machine tearing through her brain in Atarah’s simulation. </p>
<p><em>Warning, warning. </em>She was a scientist - from the first time she had set foot in a lab, aged just seven and clinging excitedly to her father’s hand, she had been taught to always, <em>always </em>pay careful attention to the warning signs. </p>
<p>And this… this was definitely a warning sign. </p>
<p>No, Fitz was right. They <em>needed </em>to talk. </p>
<p>“No more little music boxes,” she promised, reaching for his hand and slipping her fingers through the gaps in his.</p>
<p>He glanced down at their joined hands, his expression soft, not needing the words to understand her silent agreement.</p>
<p>“Do you want to sit down?” he asked quietly, his gaze still on their interlaced fingers.</p>
<p>Jemma nodded, drawing in a quick breath to steady herself and squeezing his hand. </p>
<p>He squeezed back, and then together they walked over to the paired window seat over at the large bay window. </p>
<p>Fitz sat down first, slipping his hand out of hers as he did, and Jemma tried not to feel a pang at the loss of contact. Forcing a smile to her lips, she sat down opposite Fitz.</p>
<p>He nudged her knee with his, gentle but firm enough to prod her attention. “You don’t need to do that, you know,” he said softly. </p>
<p>She pushed her bangs impatiently behind her ears, suddenly very exasperated at her decision to grow them out - <em>that’s </em>definitely <em>changing on the Zephyr - </em>her smile faltering somewhat. “What do you mean?” she asked.</p>
<p>“That,” Fitz said simply, raising one hand to circle in front of her face and then dropping it into her lap. “You don’t have to smile and pretend that you’re alright with this all, because I know you much better than that.” Gently, but again with that almost May-like hint of steel behind it, he pressed on, “we <em>said </em>no more music boxes, Jem.” </p>
<p>Her first instinct was to laugh and shrug it off, and say that that wasn’t what she was doing - but <em>that, </em>of course, was what had gotten them into Atarah’s mind prison in the first place.</p>
<p>(Well, actually, no. Pretty sure that had been Enoch… <em>regardless, </em>though, she was a scientist, and she prided herself on not making the same mistake twice.) </p>
<p>“You’re right,” she admitted, blowing out a short, sharp breath and turning her head to look out at the swirling stars outside the Zephyr’s windows. </p>
<p>
  <em>Purple, emerald, silver-rose, gold. </em>
</p>
<p>So many colours, so much <em>beauty… </em>she could spend a lifetime here, just looking out at it all. </p>
<p>She sensed rather than saw Fitz shift in his seat and lean towards her, registering the warmth of his touch and the sensation of instant safety that came with it before she felt its weight.</p>
<p>“I know it’s hard, Jemma,” he said, and even after all these years, the way he said her name still sent a little thrill of warmth shooting through her body. His voice, though, was wry as he went on, “But we both know what happened the last time we didn’t talk about something like this.” </p>
<p>“Yes, and we most definitely do <em>not </em>want that happening again,” Jemma agreed, just the thought of their time in the cerebral fusion machine already being <em>more </em>than enough to send her spinning back around to face him. “So… where did you want to begin?” </p>
<p>“I think that’s a fairly good place, actually,” he said, his blue eyes frank. “The cerebral fusion machine. That was a… quite a wake-up call for us both, I think.” </p>
<p>Jemma made a sound that was halfway between a hysterical laugh and a snort. “You don’t say.” </p>
<p>Fitz almost smiled, but his gaze was too serious as he looked at her, his blue eyes uncharacteristically solemn. “I need you to know that I didn’t mean it,” he said suddenly, his gaze still locked intently on hers. “When I said that all my pain comes from you? I <em>didn’t </em>mean it.” </p>
<p>“Well, I didn’t mean it when I said that all my damage comes from you,” she shot back quickly, raising her eyebrows to tell him in their non-verbal language, <em>I’m not letting you take all the blame for this. </em></p>
<p>He gave his head a tiny half-shake, which in their silent system (perfected over years and years of wanting to complain about what idiots their laboratory co-workers were, but being unable to say it aloud) meant, <em>let me finish. </em></p>
<p>“I didn’t mean it,” he said, “and I did.” </p>
<p>“I didn’t mean it in the sense that I <em>blame </em>you for all my pain, because, Jemma, I’d go through it all again without batting an eyelash.” He swallowed, and his voice was thick as he went on, “but I can’t deny that most of the things that have hurt me over the years have been related to you in some way.” </p>
<p>Jemma fought to swallow past the sudden and heavy lump in her throat. It was <em>true, </em>wasn’t it? Every tortuous thing they had gone through since that first decision to join Coulson’s team however-many years ago was on <em>her, </em>by extension, because she had been the one to persuade him to do it. </p>
<p>“I’m <em>not </em>blaming you for any of it,” Fitz repeated, leaning forward so that she could see just how serious he was. “I was wrong to ever even <em>suggest </em>that I blamed you. But I just…” </p>
<p>“It’s too much,” she admitted, reaching forward too so she could rest her hand on his knee. “I mean, you… you <em>died, </em>Fitz.” </p>
<p>Even now, even just <em>saying </em>it, she felt a wash of coldness seep through her body, chilling her through to her very bones and bringing with it the whispering reminder of that grief, that <em>emptiness </em>so great that she had almost lost touch with herself completely. </p>
<p>She could see that it affected Fitz in a similar way, see it in the way he closed his eyes for a fraction of a second longer than he usually would when he blinked, see it in the way his left hand gave the tiniest of shakes as he reached up to run a hand through his hair. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said, his voice catching just slightly on the inflection of the <em>h. </em>“I did.” </p>
<p>“And that <em>does </em>change things between us,” she admitted, biting her lip so hard that she tasted the iron-y tang of blood on her tongue. “We’ll never be able to go back to the time that we lost, and you’ll never be able to live through all the memories he did.” </p>
<p>She shook her head, her own hands shaking slightly as she recalled the scalpel in Fitz’s grip, how <em>very </em>steady he had been then. “But maybe that’s for the best,” she said quietly. </p>
<p>Unease flitted through Fitz’s gaze, clear to her as the brightest happiness or the most crippling grief. “Yeah, Enoch mentioned that he had seen something… terrible in the time-stream,” he said slowly. “And he said - it was me?” </p>
<p>“It was you,” Jemma agreed, closing her eyes briefly. “It wasn’t your fault, though. Well… You had a psychic split.” </p>
<p>She could see his mind working, his eyes gradually widening as he connected the dots. “A psychic split?” he repeated numbly. </p>
<p>“We were under insane amounts of stress, and none of us - but especially not you - were sleeping enough,” she explained. “And for you, it had only been six months since the Framework, six months where you couldn’t even <em>begin </em>to process what had happened to you. So when this <em>additional </em>problem came up, and there was no way to solve it except to be so cruel that you’d never be able to look at yourself the same way again…” </p>
<p>“God,” Fitz breathed, pressing his hand against his eyes. Slightly muffled, he asked, “what did I do?” </p>
<p>“Daisy,” she said, giving her head a sharp shake as a single terrible, pleading sob echoed through her mind. “You… Daisy. It was Daisy. Her powers got taken away, and restoring them would have solved our problem, but also put the world, and potentially <em>her, </em>in mortal danger.”</p>
<p>Fitz shook his head slowly, and she didn’t think she had ever seen him look this stricken before. <em>“God,” </em>he said again, his voice coming out in an unsteady huff of breath. “Did I ever… did I ever apologise to her?” </p>
<p>Jemma’s heart skipped a beat in her chest as she ran her mind back over the whole debacle. After that one furious confrontation in the detainment cell, she didn’t think Fitz and Daisy had spoken… <em>at all </em>between the split and his death.</p>
<p>Though she didn’t say anything, Fitz read the answer on her face, and his expression became even more dismayed, if that was possible.</p>
<p>“I’ll have to do that as soon as we see her again,” he said determinedly.</p>
<p>Then he stopped as he realised what he had said, the reality of their situation sinking in on them both with a sickening kind of jolt. </p>
<p>It wasn’t so much a question of <em>as soon as </em>they saw Daisy again, but more a matter of <em>if </em>they ever saw Daisy again.</p>
<p>This whole outrageous plan of theirs was just so convoluted, and so near-impossible, with so, <em>so </em>many ways for it all to go wrong - </p>
<p>“I owe <em>you </em>an apology, too,” Fitz said, cutting into the building tension and panic squeezing her heart.</p>
<p>She blinked at him, momentarily but completely taken aback. “What?” </p>
<p>“I have to apologise to you about that, too,” he said softly, but the pain in his eyes was so wrenchingly sincere that it made her heart twist. “Seeing me… do that, and to your best friend no less, it must have been your worst nightmare.” </p>
<p>Jemma’s vision blurred with tears, but she blinked them away stubbornly. “It was terrible,” she agreed, “but I think it was <em>your </em>worst nightmare too. The Framework…” </p>
<p>Fitz shook his head, the despairing look in his eyes serving as a perfect summary for how she felt. </p>
<p>“It was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said quietly. “But what made it so <em>particularly </em>terrible, especially if I look back on it now, is how <em>right </em>it all felt then. Hurting you? It felt <em>good.” </em></p>
<p>He swallowed, hard. “And I’ve never hated myself more than I do whenever I think of that feeling. Yeah, I’ll never be able to escape all the deaths I caused in there, even if they <em>were </em>just pieces of code, but <em>you, </em>Jemma… it begins and ends with you.” </p>
<p>“I feel the same way about you,” she whispered, the tears that she had managed to blink away returning full force. “Hurting you is the <em>worst </em>feeling I’ve ever had to live through, and I know I’ve done it so many times over the course of the years, and I’m just <em>so sorry </em>for it all -” </p>
<p>“I’m so, so, so sorry for everything I did to <em>you,” </em>Fitz cut her off, gesturing with his hands in that particularly despairing motion he only ever used if he was really, <em>really </em>torn up about something. “You’re <em>right </em>that all your damage comes from me, and I sometimes wonder how you can even stand to look at me and not flinch away from everything I’ve -”</p>
<p>“I forgive you for <em>all </em>of it,” she broke in, cutting <em>him </em>off this time. “Fitz, I forgive you, from the bottom of my heart, if you can only forgive me.” </p>
<p>He made a strangled kind of sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Forgive <em>you? </em>Jemma, of course I do, you deserve it a thousand times over. Myself, on the other hand, I don’t see how you can even -” </p>
<p><em>“I forgive you,” </em>she repeated, raising her voice above his and doing her utmost to drown out whatever it was he planned to say next. </p>
<p>In her urgency to <em>make him listen to her, </em>she ended up pitching the words about five times louder than she had meant to, resulting in a full-on shout that echoed through their window alcove, bouncing off the walls around them and filling the entire space with a string of impassioned repeats.</p>
<p>
  <em>I forgive you… forgive you… forgive you...</em>
</p>
<p>And then they were both on their feet, shaking and sobbing and clinging to each other, burying their faces in each other’s shoulders’ and holding on like they were each other’s only lifelines in a thunderously storming ocean. </p>
<p>Jemma couldn’t even begin to fathom how long they stayed there, only that Fitz’s arms were warm and tight around her waist, and hers around his, and they were <em>there for each other. </em></p>
<p>Always.</p>
<p>At long, long last, she pulled away, clearing her throat. Sight, sound and <em>sensation </em>flooded back to her in one fell swoop, and she winced as she noted the dried tear tracks on her cheeks, and the absolute <em>mess </em>that her hair had managed to become during their embrace.</p>
<p>She had to look like <em>such </em>a fright.</p>
<p>“That didn’t go exactly as I expected,” Fitz said wryly, voicing her sentiments pretty much exactly (with <em>slightly </em>less focus on the rat’s-nest-bangs issue, of course.) </p>
<p>“Yeah, no,” she agreed, brushing a tangled strand of the aforementioned rat’s nest behind her ear and wincing again at exactly how knotted it felt beneath her fingers.</p>
<p>“Still, though,” Fitz continued, mercifully not noticing her hair distractions, “I think we managed to get something done.” </p>
<p>She nodded once, slowly, considering the mess of roiling emotion that was still twisting around in her heart. </p>
<p>She wasn’t used to it, this intense rush of pure emotion, this feeling of opening every single door inside of her and letting it all pour out… but she thought it might just be a good thing, the way that rain could coax even the most horribly burnt of fields into green again.</p>
<p>“We did manage to get some things done,” she agreed cautiously, “but, uh, I think we might have to do this again.” </p>
<p>“And that’s <em>alright,” </em>Fitz said, not quite interrupting her, but picking up so close to the end of her sentence that he might as well have done. (She didn’t mind, though. She liked to think it was that scientifically-impossible-but-maybe-emotionally-<em>there </em>psychic link of theirs.) </p>
<p>“That’s alright,” Fitz repeated simply. “I think it’s a <em>good </em>thing, actually. We can take as long as we need, as long as we do this <em>properly. </em>Because it’s like you always say, isn’t it? The steps you take don’t have to be big…” </p>
<p>A pang of bittersweetness shot through Jemma as she thought of everything that had come to be attached to that one little phrase. Family, loss, gain, love… <em>love. </em>Today, she would choose to focus on the love aspect of it. </p>
<p>It still held true, after all. </p>
<p>She thought that it always would. </p>
<p>“They just need to take you in the right direction,” she finished, turning to look out over the sunset-coloured stars outside their bay window with just the faintest of smiles playing on her lips.</p>
<p>He turned to join her, the astral glow painting his face in a million flickering rainbow colours. “And if we just keep taking those steps in the right direction, one by one, eventually we’ll be…” </p>
<p>She was already smiling as she stepped in to finish his sentence for him. “Unstoppable?” </p>
<p>He clasped her hand in his, giving her a decisive, determined nod. “Unstoppable together.” </p>
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